


Into the Consoling Dark

by whowhatsitwhich



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:03:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4442189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowhatsitwhich/pseuds/whowhatsitwhich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“At the end of her life she was aware of heat but not pain. She had time to consider his eyes, eyes of that blue which is the color of the sky at first light of the morning. She had time to think of him… to see him laughing with an ease and freedom he would never find again in the long life which stretched out for him beyond hers, and it was his laughter she took with her as she went out, fleeing the light and heat in to the silkly, consoling dark” ~Stephen King</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Consoling Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Let there be angst....  
> also, I own nothing so don't sue me.

 

It was quiet, where she lay in the darkness, watching the last golden rays fall out of the sky through a narrow window. It didn’t hurt anymore and for that she was grateful. Maybe her ledger was finally balanced, and she’d bled enough to repay all the blood spilled by her hand. Carol snorted at the thought, amused and bemused by such a notion. She imagined filling up an ocean with all the deaths in her tally and the pitifully meandering streams soaking into the dirt beneath her couldn’t begin to compare. 

Gray, misty twilight slipped in to replace the blue and her eyes closed wearily. It would be full dark soon and she didn’t have the strength to hold out much longer. Her lids cracked, peering up at the window in a vain hope that some bit of daylight lingered. If it was the last time she would see the sun in this life, then dammit, she wanted to see. To remember. To forget all the pain and regret and things left undone. So much to do and so little time left. Hours really, if the creeping numbness invading every part of her was anything to go by. 

She laughed and winced as it sputtered to a groan, her ribs protesting mightily at the slight movement. She lay back, willing herself to be calm, to ignore the rasp in the trailing end of each breath. She was going. She knew that now. “ _Go then,”_  she mumbled in a broken, twisted voice. “ _There are other worlds than these.”_ Where had she heard that? A book? A song? Not that it mattered now. Her part in this world was done. She accepted it, welcomed it in a way. Sorry to leave those she loved. Even more sorry that she hadn’t told one in particular all the things she wanted to say. Maybe it was for the best, that she’d never said aloud everything she wanted, everything she’d done, every choice she’d made that seemed so damned necessary at the time. Like the choice to keep some things to herself for the greater good. 

She pictured him, long and lean and tentative. The way his hair fell across his forehead and shadowed those blue, blue eyes. The way he moved. Those few times he’d laughed, open and free and uninhibited, with her looking on, wishing for nothing more than that he’d laugh more often. His outer strength and his inner fragility, a curse of contradictions. His good and kind and tender heart,  Wishing like hell she’d bit the bullet and formally given him hers. It was undoubtedly his and would continue to be even after beating its last. 

There was no point in hoping or praying or wishing for a miracle. Her time was up. It was finished. Warmth surrounded her, picked her up and cradled her in gentle hands. She let herself drift, a sigh falling from her lips as she caught a glimpse of something familiar, beloved. Calloused fingers. Bluer than the sky above eyes. That shy, stilted smirk. Sun warmed leather. The strum of an arrow leaving the bow. The sound of the wind through pine trees. The thrum of a Triumph’s motor as it turned for home.  Her last thought as she went out into the consoling dark was two fold. 

_I love you._   
_Daryl._


End file.
